Irish Eyes
by Litha2124
Summary: Arthur and his knights travel to Ireland in hopes of making peace and creating new allies. A tale of love, loss, and betrayal. Please read and review! Rating may change later on in the story!
1. A Toast to Life

**Irish Eyes**

**Chapter 1: A Toast to Life**

The light from the tavern illuminated the darkness of the fortress in the stillness of the night. Music and laughter echoed throughout the walls. Every night was a celebration for the freedom and prosperity that was hard earned for the people of Britain. Rome had relinquished its claim on Britain and though they had left the people for dead, they were finally free of Rome's oppressive ways. The Saxon's had been defeated and what ever was left of their army had fled the country. They had no time to recover from the devastation, for the following winter was unkind. Their crops suffered dearly and many people died of starvation and of illnesses. There wasn't a man, woman or child that hadn't been affected some way or another, and with as much grace as the situation allowed, Arthur led his people through the harsh winter, doing whatever necessary to save as many people as he could. They had paid for their freedom with many lives, but now it all seemed like a distant memory. The spring came and brought them new hope. And now, Fall Harvest had brought them much to celebrate, new life and more than enough food for the coming winter. Everyone bathed in the warmth of the celebration and each other's company save for one man.

His dark eyes surveyed his surroundings, wistfully wishing he could join in with his comrades. Everything has changed. He knew that he should be grateful; he and his fellow brothers-in-arms had survived another rough year and had finally found peace. And yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't seem to fit in. He was out of touch and out of place with his changing surroundings. Life slipped right past him and all he could do was watch.

Lancelot, always wishing to be the center of attention, sat at the largest table in the middle of the tavern, drinking ale with his left hand, while holding onto an almost indecently exposed blonde haired wench with his right. She could not help but giggle with delight and moan as he kissed her passionately. She was not ashamed of her lack of propriety, nor was he ashamed of his obvious lust for her. Luckily, no one around seemed to care, except for the other bar wenches who glared at Sylvanna with jealousy and hatred. She just merely smiled at them and waved as she leaned to kiss Lancelot on his cheek.

To his left, Galahad and Kayley, the only female knight to join the Round Table, the most trusted of Arthur's companions, sat at a small table in what seemed to be the middle of a slowly growing crowd.

"Alright little lady, lets see wot you've got." Galahad said.

"Who you callin' lady? You're the one wearing a skirt!" She retorted, causing the crowd to laugh.

"I told you it's not a skirt, and we're not going over this again!" He scowled at her. Changing the subject he said, "you know the rules, no breaks, no cheating, and no regurgitation."

"Alright and loser has to buy the entire tavern a round of drinks!" She said.

"Aye!" cried many of the spectators

"Well this shouldn't be much of a challenge," Galahad bragged. "Hope you've got enough to pay for a round of drinks because you're going to lose!"

"In your dreams!" She laughed

"Alas, the only one that could ever put up a good fight was Gawain, but he's too old now so I doubt that he would be able to keep up with me." He stretched out his arms and folded them behind his head as he looked in Gawain's direction. "Not like he ever could keep up with me… Ouch what the-" Galahad rubbed the back of his head where Gawain's empty mug had met its mark.

"While you were lying passed out, I was drinking to my own victory!" Gawain retorted, sending the tavern into fits of laughter.

Galahad just rolled his eyes and reached for his mug.

And so it began.

Gawain sat back and laughed as he put an arm around his wife Brevlan. He had matured a great deal since he married. Being severely wounded and near death had put his life into perspective. It made him realize how short life can be and it's not something that should be wasted on adolescent impulses. After the battle with the Saxons, Gawain was intent on finding a bride and starting a family. Brevlan was a healer among her people and later tended to Gawain. It was said that on the third morning since the battle, he woke free for the first time from a fever. The first and only thing he remembered was Brevlan sitting by his bed, in a white flowing gown as she gazed down at him. It was then that he fell madly in love with her and she with him. They were married on the first morning of spring on the cliffs of the eastern shore, towering over the sea as the sun rose to bring in the beginning of a new day and the beginning of their new life together.

And together they sat, laughing and enjoying each other's company. Gawain looked at Brevlan and she smiled. He kissed her passionately as he put a hand protectively over her swelling belly. They looked so different, yet they complimented each other so well. She was delicate and beautiful, with her long soft hair that smelt of lavender and her silky, pale skin. And though Gawain still kept his rugged appearance, Brevlan made sure he bathed regularly and was well groomed.

Softly, Brevlan tugged at Gawain's hair. And as if he knew what she was thinking he said, "My love, I would sooner kiss a pig before I let you cut my hair."

She merely laughed as he leaned in to kiss her again.

Tristan watched them with envy and turned away. He spotted Dagonet sitting at the bar listening to Bors as he bragged about his eleven, soon to be twelve children. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, everything seemed to remind him of what he wanted the most, a family of his own. After seeing so many lives end before him, he wanted to see life beginning, to hold something so beautiful and innocent as a child, his child.

Tristan sighed. No, he would never have children of his own. No woman seemed to catch his attention, and even if they did, they were always intimidated by his presence. He was destined to be alone and he had accepted that.

Hadn't he?

_I am a warrior, a weapon of war, what is my place now that there is peace?_

Since the crowning of King Arthur, Britain was becoming a prosperous and powerful nation. Thanks to Arthur's military knowledge, which had been acquired through his extensive studies, Britain had obtained a highly skilled military force that nearly rivaled the Roman Army. They had also earned from the woads many skillful and reliable scouts, which made Tristan feel like a relic, both useless and of the past.

"Ye want more Tristan?" Tristan looked up at Vanora and silently cursed himself for being so deep in his own self pity that he didn't even notice that she had been standing there.

Tristan laughed at himself. _Look at how weak I have become._

He just shook his head and Vanora looked at him a moment longer, as if debating whether or not to say something. Finally she said "Are you alright? You seem a bit more strange than usual."

"I'm fine." He lied.

He could tell that she wasn't fooled by the way she lifted her brow. She opened her mouth to say something but quickly decided against it. She wasn't going to press the matter. The scout rarely opened up to anyone and she new that by forcing the matter, she would not get a word from Tristan.

Vanora nodded her head and quickly disappeared. Tristan watched her as she went. Bors' lover was the exception. She saw more than they did and read more into a person's thoughts and actions than any of the knights were able to. Maybe it was because she was a mother, he didn't know. She was an admirable woman, brave and strong. She wasn't afraid of anything, or at least she made is seem that way. Men that were much stronger and more dangerous than her didn't intimidate her. If she didn't like the way they treated her she'd let them know. Bors was a luck man.

Tristan took one last look at his fellow knights and got up to leave.

In the distance, a female voice shouted in victory as her male opponent fell to the ground, defeated and as usual, no one seemed to notice as Tristan left the tavern.

Arthur and his older sister Morgain sat in his room by the fireplace laughing and remembering days of their youth. She had spent many nights like this in the past few months hoping the ease the pain and chase away the ghosts that haunted her brother.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, each in their own thoughts. Arthur began to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Morgain asked him.

"Remember when you set Bishop Germanus' robes on fire?" Arthur asked.

"It was an accident!" she cried, the light from the fireplace illuminating the laughter and tears in her eyes "It's not my fault he sat on my candle!"

"An accident? Dear sister you slid it under him!" he laughed.

_It's good to hear my brother laugh again. _Morgain tried to keep a serious face but failed, "It was a sight wasn't it?"

"Yes it was. Especially when he started to run around, screaming his head off!" Tears began to line the corners of his eyes. As a child Morgain had despised the Bishop and he as well hated her. She refused to listen to him or any other clergy man as they spoke about God and their religion. She didn't believe that you should force someone to think like you do. So she did everything possible to drive him completely insane and hopefully chase him and his followers out of Britain. Each time it usually ended with Morgain being sent to her room without supper or more chores but neither discouraged her.

"And then you tried to put out the fire by fanning it and only made it worse!" Morgain continued. They burst in fits of laughter. She remembered that day well. The Bishop had re-entered his chambers after supper where of course, Morgain was waiting for him. Arthur had been on his way to ask the Bishop more questions about the scripture that he was to learn when he heard him yelling. He burst into the room only to find the Bishop running around the room. When they had finally managed to suppress the flames, he reached behind the bed and hauled out Morgain.

"Yes," Morgain sighed, "he kept yelling at me and calling me the devil's child and was going to whip the demon out of me when you stepped in front of me and demanded that punishment be bestowed upon you a well." She reached out and ruffled Arthur's curly hair, much like she did when they were younger. "Such a brave and noble boy," she smiled softly, "Things were so much simpler then; little did I know what you were to become."

Morgain looked at her younger brother. He looked very much like a king, tall and proud, but humble like a mortal man should be. And still he held in his eyes something pure and good that made him a stronger man, a better man. She smiled sadly. _He's been through so much,_ she thought.

As if sensing her sorrow he added, "and what of you dear sweet sister?" He playfully tugged at a strand of her dark, untamed hair. "High Priestess of Avalon." He smiled at her and for a moment, things were as they should have been.

A knock on the door drew them out of nostalgia and into the present.

"Enter Jols," Arthur called out.

"Sir, a message for you."

With urgency, Jols handed Arthur the letter. The lines on his face grew tense.

"What is it Arthur?" Morgain asked as she scooted closer to him to try to read over his shoulder.

He folded the letter with haste. "Tell the men that we meet in the Fortress Hall immediately."

"Arthur, you cannot be serious!" Lancelot laughed heartily. The smile faded from his handsome face when his eyes met with the stone hard gazes from his commander.

"I want peace Lancelot and right now with the constant raid from Irish rebels we cannot afford to lose such an alliance from the most powerful clan in Ireland." Arthur said. "Besides, I've heard that Lord Abram is a generous man."

"Yes but how generous?" Galahad asked, his head hung low between his hands. Thanks to Mogain's tonic his hangover was nearly gone. He was coherent but suffered a shearing headache. "How far is he willing to go to achieve peace? Would he make a false treaty and stab you from behind the moment our backs are turned to gain the upper hand?"

"What else did the letter say?" Kayley inquired. Her brown eyes held so many questions, questions that were probably inappropriate, but she refused to voice them. If there is one thing that she has learned is follow orders and to keep quiet when necessary, a quality that Galahad refused to practice. Galahad stared at her from his place at the Round Table. He noticed that she was completely sober and he envied her for that. He turned his attention back to Arthur.

"As a sign of trust, Lord Abram is sending his two daughters to be wed into high ranking families from the two leading countries," Arthur continued, "The eldest daughter shall go to Rome to wed General Ulyses Vasto Romus, and the other shall go to Briton…" He didn't continue. He didn't need to, for they all knew who the youngest daughter was meant to marry. After all, it was always a wise choice for a king to take a wife so that he may have an heir.

"Arthur," Morgain interrupted, "She is more likely to slit your throat while you sleep than to honor such a pact." Murmurs of agreement came from the Knights of the Round Table. The Irish were known for their tempers and their savagery in battle. Tales from traveling bards told of betrayal and murder of their leaders. There had been many attempts to unite Ireland under one banner, but all have failed.

"I know what it is you want Arthur, we all do," Lancelot said, "You wish to create a 'better world'." He stood. "But at what price? Your life? Your happiness? Your very soul?"

"Guenivere is dead Lancelot, I won't love again." The pain on his face and the harshness of reality was almost too much for them to bear. He had grown to love Guenivere, as she loved him. They had endured many hardships and had remained loyal to one another. Their duty and loyalty to one another soon turned to love and they were both overjoyed to find that she was with child, but when she died giving birth last winter, all dreams of happiness had died for Arthur.

Lancelot sighed. _No point in arguing now._ "If you are intent on going through with this then I will go with you to make sure that no ill befalls you."

Arthur smiled, relieved that he would have the help his closest friend and faithful companion. "Thank you, my friend."

"I will go as well!" Kayley shouted. Arthur smiled at the youngest knight. She was extremely loyal to Arthur and trusted him almost to a fault. She never questioned and was always one of the first to volunteer for a mission.

She smiled back at him. She was forever grateful to Arthur for rescuing her from the Saxon army. Kayley had been working as a spy to track their progress when she had been caught by two wondering soldiers. He had nearly beaten her to death when, as luck would have it, Arthur had come to the rescue. He had just finished his meeting in the woods with Guenivere and Merlin, when he heard struggling among the brush and came to see what it was. When she was well again, she pledged her life to serve him and his knights and had proven to be a good ally and a trusted, loyal companion. They had grown to love her and treat as though she were the sister they never had.

"I will follow." Dagonet said.

"As will I!" Bors shouted over his mug of ale.

"I am with you," Gawain added, "Galahad as well."

They all turned to the young knight. "What? I would have agreed to go anyway." He grinned.

"Tristan?" Gawain asked. He had been silent as usual, taking in all the information before he made his decision. He was always the last one to commit and the last one to stand down once he gave his word.

The scout merely nodded and said, "Who else is going to keep your asses out of trouble?"

They all laughed heartily at the scout's words and made their way to the tavern, each in a lighter mood. Let the worries of tomorrow hold, for tonight, they would celebrate life.


	2. The Edge of the World

**Irish Eyes**

_Author's note: Well I was hoping to get more reviews before I posted the next chapter (sobs) but I couldn't wait any longer so I decided to put the other one up. Thank you __Scouter__ for being my first and only person so far to review! I'm glad you like it so far and I hope not to disappoint! Ok oh with the story!_

**Chapter 2: The Edge of the World**

_Here I stand at the edge of the world_

_Between the living and the dead,_

_Hearing the screams of fallen souls_

_Begging me for life that I cannot give_

_Delicate is the tread of life_

_That balances on the edge of a knife_

_Fate has been so unkind that I should live_

_And they should die._

_And yet, here I stand at the edge of life_

_Forsaking what I should be grateful for._

She thought to herself._ How much longer can my people take this? _She closed her eyes and let the cold night air hit her face. It would dry away the tears that fell freely from her face. Rarely did she show her emotions, but tonight the ghosts that haunted her had become overwhelming. She had lived through a number of battles, had lost companions, but nothing prepared her for the loss she suffered now. She had heard reports from one of the villages on the outskirts of her father's land of scouts from their rivals the Breago Clan. She and her soldiers had set forth to defend the village and eliminate the potential threat. What awaited them was something so horrible that no military discipline could have ever prepared them for.

The stench of rotting corpses and burnt flesh from miles away, told them that something had gone terribly wrong.

The village lay less than a mile off the east. The people had been known for their excellent fishing skills, their fine jewelry, and warm hospitality. Many of the soldiers came from the village and had left behind their families. It held a special place in Isolde's heart as well because that is where her father and mother met. She often came to the shore and walked barefoot along the shorelines, just like she and her mother did when she was a child. But what she loved the most was being able to see the sun rise above the sea every morning. She would wake in the dark and sit for hours waiting for that first glimpse of light. Afterwards, she would visit the market place where some of the finest trinkets could be found. At the end of the week the whole town would have a celebration in honor of their fishermen, who spent long, dangerous hours at sea so that they could bring home food and profit for the village. There had always been music and dancing.

But now it was silent.

The sky was dark as they rode with haste. The village was peaceful, but as they drew near they saw the evil that had befallen their families.

First there was the smell. Surely this must be hell, for no place on earth could reek of such atrocity. Then came the nightmare. Blood marked the buildings in strange symbols, symbols that Isolde came to recognize as the Breago Clan. The rest of the blood flowed in rivers throughout the streets. Heads of men and women were mounted on spears; their last expression was one of horror and despair. Headless corpses were piled in the center of the town while the children were tied over the remains of a bond fire, burnt and half eaten.

She could still hear the cries of the soldiers as they recognized their friends and families. Isolde stood frozen with fear. This was all that was left of her mother; everything else was a fading memory. She was roughly thrust back into reality when she heard the voice of her companion and second in command, Accalon cry out in despair. She searched for him frantically. She was relieved to find that he was unharmed but that relief was quickly washed away when she saw the lifeless body he held in his hands. It was his wife, Aíne. They were expecting their first child next month.

They searched for survivors amongst the rubble, but it was futile. The soldiers gathered the rest of the bodies and burned the rest of the bodies. There would be no time for burial. Accalon fell to his knees and wept. It was too much to bear. Many times had Accalon been her pillar of strength. When she or the rest of the soldiers felt like giving up, he always lifted their spirits with some silly remark that had made them all laugh. But now, no one could lift their spirits. Isolde knelt beside Accalon and embraced him as he wept. Her own silent tears gently fell as she swore to avenge the death of the people.

She roughly wiped away the tears that were threatening to fall once again. She took a deep breath as she closed her eyes. The icy wind blew her hair in long waves and the sleeves of her gown thrashed behind her, like the wings of a dove fighting a lost battle against the wind's course.

Nothing could carve out the events that took place later that day. They had pursued the rebels relentlessly. When they came across the soldiers they had been so numb from any emotion that they did not hesitate to execute them. It was the bloodiest battle she and the men had ever seen. Many lives had been lost that day.

She looked down at the world below her.

Ireland. Her beautiful home land, with its emerald fields and ancient tales of magic not quite forgotten. It was much like the people, wild and free but tainted with the emotional scars of battles long past. The moon illuminated the land that was engulfed in the fog. It all seemed so peaceful, yet haunting, as if the ghosts of the past roamed the lands, never to be at peace. As the wind blew, the screams of the fallen soldiers from battles both past and present, seemed to echo throughout the land, begging for life. But she could not give it.

Ireland desperately needed the alliance with Briton and Rome.

"I'm sorry my brothers," she whispered as she closed her eyes, "If I could make it so that I died and you lived I would have."

Her betroth was a persuasive man, powerful and noble. Surely he could put a stop to all the fighting and bring peace to the country. But there was something else, something dark in his intentions. She had tried to tell her father about her suspicions but it was too late. He had already given his consent to the treaty, and now the only thing that she could do was honor her father's agreement. She had wanted nothing more than to prevent more bloodshed and hopefully mark the beginning of peace even if it meant that she wasn't marrying for love. _This union will bring peace._ She tried to convinced herself. And yet, there she stood on the rail of her balcony, as she did many nights, looking down at the world below her, thoughts weighing heavily on her mind.

_It doesn't seem like such a long way down from here…_

_Duty_. No matter what she felt, what she thought, it didn't matter. The love and duty she had for her people came first, the love for her country, and her family always came first.

"I was born to privilege and with that comes certain duties and obligations." She whispered. _Our union can end this. It has to._

"I suppose that in a strange way, I am marrying for love." She said as she got down from the rail of her balcony and walked into her room. No matter how much she tried, she would not find peace tonight.

* * *

The fog began to lessen as a new day approached. The knights made their way to the coast where a ship would bear them to Ireland. They were all quiet, each in their own words. Kayley seemed to be the only one in a light mood being that this was her first trip away from home.

"What do you think it will be like?" Kayley asked Gawain.

"I haven't the slightest idea," the knight replied. He really wasn't paying any attention to his young companion. His thoughts were with his wife. _I hope she doesn't have the baby while I'm away._

"Don't worry lad," Morgain interrupted his thoughts. "She has a long way yet and I doubt that ye will be gone that long." She moved her white mare beside him.

"You'll look after her, won't you Morgain? I'd feel much safer knowing that she is in your hands." Gawain said.

Morgain gave him a reassuring smile. "Aye, I'll look after her."

Gawain sighed with relief. "Thank you My Lady."

She nodded and turned to her left to see Dagonet riding by her side.

"My heart wishes that you would come with us My Lady," Dagonet said softly. His eyes did not meet hers.

"As do I." she replied. "It is not my wish to leave my brother, especially now when his heart pains him so." She looked up ahead where Arthur rode with Lancelot. He was strong, but she knew very well that even the strongest men break. She knew that it was only a matter of time before his wall of defense broke.

As they rode in silence, Morgain pretended not to notice the looks that she was receiving from Dagonet. _She is beautiful,_ he thought. Her black curly hair was pinned back, and her riding clothes were a faded shade of burgundy. She was more Briton than Roman, with her pale skin, high cheekbones and beautiful dark eyes. Sometimes, if you stared long enough, you could see the very heart and soul of the forest in her eyes…_ A man could easily get lost in those eyes_, he thought.

She was raised in Avalon after their mother died. She refused to become Christian, much to Arthur's dismay. They had parted when they were still young and Arthur had received little to no news of his sister. She on the other hand, had many eyes on Arthur, making sure that no ill befall him. She hadn't seen him herself until the battle at Badon Hill. He was unmistakable even in the chaos on the battle field she could immediately sense her brother and letting her emotions get the best of her, she rode her horse in the midst of the battle, eager to reach his side. That is when she first met Dagonet. A Saxon had managed to dismount her and was ready to strike when an axe came crashing down on his skull. He smiled at her and before she knew it, she was gently put back on her horse and heading towards her brother. Even in the midst of battle Dagonet was a calm, gentle man.

Her eyes met Dagonet's for a moment and they smiled at each other. The sound of an approaching horse broke the spell.

Oblivious to what was going on, Lancelot asked Morgain "So what do you know of this family?"

"I have been told that the heir to the throne, Cathal, son of Abram, rules by force and barbarianism. It is said that he executed 'traitors' to the crown in the town square along with their families." She closed her eyes.

"You mean he even executed their children?" Dagonet asked.

Morgain nodded her head. "He has a thousand man standing army that have a thirst for blood. His main objective is to build a larger army and all who refuse to submit to his command are executed."

"How are we suppose to believe that Lord Abram will honor such a peace treaty when his heir is a monster?" Galahad joined in the conversation.

Morgain looked ahead at her older brother who had chosen to remain silent. "We have to believe and hope that deep down, both men want peace, even if they go about it different ways."

"And what of the rest of the family?" Lancelot asked. "Do you know nothing about them?"

"Unfortunately no," Morgain continued. "They are far more illusive than Cathal. Whether that is a blessing or a warning I know not."

"Hey how do you get all of this information any how?" Galahad asked.

Morgain smiled. "Being trained on the Isle of Mists you acquire certain…talents. These talents enable you to be useful to the throne or if needed to ensure the survival of Avalon. Some are able to see without being seen. The fall of the king is also the fall of Avalon. Therefore this information concerns us as well."

Not quite sure what she meant, Galahad opened his mouth to ask another question when Kayley interrupted.

"Look!" Kayley shouted as she pointed to the ship that lay in the harbor. She pinched Galahad's ear.

"Ouch!" He cried. "What was that for?"

She just laughed as she shouted, "last one there is a sack of swine's piss!" And she took off, leaving Galahad with a look of bewilderment.

"Well come on Gawain you heard her!" And with that the two young men rode after Kayley, each determined to beat the other.

Bors gave a hearty laugh as Morgain looked to her brother and rolled her eyes, "Knights of the Round Table indeed."


	3. Welcome to Ireland

_Author' s note: Thank you for every one who reviewed! You all made my day! I thought no one was going to read my story but I'm glad you all did! None of this stuff is historically accurate, it all came straight from my twisted little mind. If you noticed I change the name of one of the characters. I don't know why I just wanted to use the name for another character in another story… I'm fickle like that. Well hope you like this chapter, I had difficulty writing it because for some reason I lose interest in my stories fast and never finish them! LOL! Please read and review!_

_**Bláthnat: little flower**_

**Chapter 3:**

The royal family sat in the meeting hall as their father requested. Abram sat at the head of the table silently, waiting for one of his children to speak. The deep lines of age and hardship deeply lined his usually caring face. One by one he looked at his children waiting for one of them to speak.

Isolde sat to his left next to an empty chair. It had long been vacant since the passing of their mother. She remained quiet, almost as if her mind was on some other pressing matter. What it was he knew not, but he knew he would get no answers from her. _Just like her mother_. He thought.

Next to Isolde sat his youngest child, Connor. He was dressed in his usual riding clothes, and his skin, though still fair, was slightly darker than his siblings, for he spent many hours riding along the country side. He sat silently, looking at both his sisters, feeling hopeless. _If only I could make this right my sisters I would._ He thought silently to himself.

To his right sat another empty chair which had belonged to his eldest son Alastar who had died two years ago in battle. Oh how they missed Alastar. He was very wise and charismatic. He was able to acquire many followers from other clans just by words alone. Everyone was sure that he would be the one to bring peace. It was most devastating to the family as well as the people when Cathal brought home the news that his brother had been slain in battle and that the body was not able to be recovered.

Next to Alastar's chair sat Caitriona his second youngest child. She stared down at her hands as she fiddled with her long, golden hair that was elegantly braided. She had taken the news the hardest because she had adored her brother as a child and idolized him. She had seen how kind he was to the people and how passionate he was about love and peace. He was an immortal God to her. She was shattered with the reality that someone so fair and just, could perish.

Cathal sat at the other end of the table, facing his father. He was the spitting image of his father in his youth, the same beautiful blue eyes and thick black hair, and beard. There was something that was different about Cathal, something that made him different from his father, along with the rest of his family. He had an air of arrogance and ambition fueled by greed and the desire to conquer. He ran his fingers through his hair and began to laugh.

"I don't see what is so funny, Cathal." Connor said. Cathal leaned back in his chair and stared at his younger brother with amusement. He began to twist the hairs on his beard.

"He's right son, this is no laughing matter." Abram said.

Quickly the humor in his eyes faded and was replaced by anger. "We don't need them father!" Cathal shouted as he slammed his fist on the table. His normally pale face went red with anger and his ice blue eyes shone with fury as he glared at his father. "We can seize the rest of the country by force! If we just-"

"NO!" Isolde stood to face her older brother. "I will not suffer my people to endure more blood shed because of your stupid pride!"

Cathal stood and kick his chair away from him. "How dare you defy me!" He moved towards her. "When I am king I will make sure that this insubordination does not go unchallenged!"

He stood in front of his sister. "You will learn your place!" he shouted in her face. Caitriona jumped in her seat and looked down again at the table.

Isolde met his icy glare and said in a low tone, "Be careful dear brother, for you have yet to become king and I know where you lay at night."

Angered even more by her bravery, Cathal raised his hand to strike her. His hand was caught in mid air by Connor. He met Cathal's cold eyes with his own emerald eyes.

"Enough, Cathal! Islode is right. Part of being king, a GOOD king is doing what is right by the people, even if it means putting aside our own personal feelings." He stared at his brother, and though he was angry, his eyes remained calm.

_Alastar's eyes_ Cathal thought.

He yanked his arm away from Connor and stormed out of the room.

"I am sorry father if I had stepped out of place." Connor said. "I know that he is to be king some day."

"You know your brother, hot tempered, ambitious-"

"Arrogant," Isolde interrupted as she sat back down in her chair and crossed her arms.

Abram laughed. "Ah my dear Isolde, you are quite a hand full." He hugged his daughter. She smiled brightly at him. He smiled back at her. _Indeed, just like your mother._

"Da," Caitriona whispered. She was nervously tugging at her long braid. "Do you think that Arthur is as good as a man they say? Do you think that he will honor his word and bring peace?"

Abram kneeled beside his youngest daughter and took both of her hands in his. "Of course he will my dear, and don't worry, I am sure that he will take good care of you." She sighed with relief.

"Really Da?" Her eyes lit up. She had heard many stories of Arthur and his great deeds and had developed an affection towards him. Maybe it was because he resembled her brother so much. She only hoped that the man behind the myth was everything she hoped for.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Abram yawned. "Well, the hour grows late and I feel it is time for us all to rest." Abram said. They all said their goodnights as they went their own separate ways. Connor walked beside his father. When he was sure that is sisters were far enough he spoke up.

"Da, do you think it's wise to send Issy and Cait to marry these men?" Connor rarely questioned his father, but he couldn't help but fear for the well being of his older sisters. Abram raised his brow "I fear for them father, especially Isolde; you know these Romans are cruel, and poor Isolde will be so far from home. What if something goes wrong?"

Abram sighed. It wasn't easy for him to give up his daughters like this. They meant the world to him, all of is children did; but Abram knew how much more cruel life could be for a woman. He wanted what was best for them both. "Aye son it pains me so, but between the two, Isolde is the strongest. That's why I decided to send her to Rome." He smiled to himself. _She's a handful, if anyone could survive Rome it was Isolde._

They continued to walk in silence for some time. Finally, "Da, shall I receive the knights in Cathal's stead?"

"Aye son." Abram stood by the door to his bedroom. "I shall retire now son, sleep well, for you have a long day ahead of you tomorrow."

Connor nodded and left his father. Abram sighed heavily. Tonight, sleep would evade him once again.

The ship arrived at the harbor mid afternoon the next day. Arthur was the first to set forth n the dock, followed closely by Lancelot. Slowly but surely, the rest of the knights began to peel off the boat. They were fortunate enough to have had a smooth journey, but that wasn't enough to save most of the knights from realizing that they had not developed sea legs.

"Remind me never to leave home again!" Galahad moaned.

"Aye," Bors and Gawain said at the same time. Kayley just rolled her eyes as she passed them to stand next to Arthur.

A crowd begun to gather from the village. They stared in awe of the new comers for what seemed like an eternity. They began to whisper among themselves and some of the young maidens began to giggle. Lancelot flashed them a charming smile, sending them into even more fits of giggles. _Remind me to check out the local tavern. _He made a mental note to himself.

"Mamma, who are they?" A little girl with bright red hair and clear blue eyes asked loudly.

"That's Arthur, King of Briton and those are his knights." The girl's mother answered.

The girl smiled. "They look nice," she said as she walked towards them. Arthur smiled. "My name is Bláthnat." She said as she took his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Bláthnat, these are my knights," Arthur pointed to each of the members of the Round Table as he named them for Bláthnat. When he got to Kayley, her eyes widened.

"You have a girl knight!" She squealed, "Can I be a knight too?"

Arthur laughed, "Maybe when you're older."

The sound of approaching horses drew everyone's attention to the road.

"It's the prince!" someone shouted.

"For some reason, I am not looking forward to meeting with this Cathal," Lancelot whispered to Arthur.

"Nor am I," he replied.

"Come on Artur we have to meet the price!" Bláthnat said impatiently as she took off running.

"Bláthnat, wait!" Her mother shouted. She ignored her mother and took off towards the road. The sound of the horses quickly approaching shook her mother into realization. "Bláthnat stop!" Her mother took off running in hopes of catching her swift daughter.

Without a second thought, Arthur ran after Bláthnat._ She must not get to the road!_ He thought.

"Arthur wait!" Lancelot shouted as he took off after him, and pretty soon, the rest of the knights took off after Arthur and the little girl.

Connor and a handful of his companions rode with haste towards the harbor. He hadn't meant to be late, he just woke up later than usual. _Dear Gods what I am going to say?_ He wondered. _Alastar please help me! Give me strength brother. _He was wrapped up so deep in his own thoughts that he wasn't paying attention to the road.

He looked up just in time to see a little girl fall face first in the dirt road, not to far in front of him.

At that moment, Bláthnat seemed to realize the danger she was in. She had badly scraped her knee and was frozen with terror. All she could do was cry.

Connor came to an abrupt stop and immediately jumped off his horse. This was a dangerous move being that his companions were following closely behind.

"My Lord!" shouted one of his companions in horror. Abruptly he tightened the reigns of his horse making him rear up on its hind legs.

He merely ignored his friend and ran to the little girl. He picked her up and carried her to safety. After he put her back on the ground he asked her, "What is yer name love?" He began to check her knee and elbows for any injuries.

"Bláthnat," she sniffed.

"That is a beautiful name, little flower," he said softly stating the meaning of her name. To his comrades' horror, and to the shock of the villagers, Connor took the corner of his cape and whipped her tears from her dirty face. "Where is your mama, Bláthnat?"

She looked around for a moment and pointed to a woman who stood in the middle of the road in shock at the kindness the young prince had displayed. The knights just stared at him, shocked. _This couldn't be Cathal, could it? _They wondered.

"I-I'm sorry sire!" Her mother stammered. "She just took off so fast… How could I ever repay you sire?" she said and she took her daughter into her arms.

"All I ask of you, Lady, is that you do not scold your daughter. She has been frightened enough and I doubt that she will do it again."

The woman smiled. "Thank you sire." She bowed as she carried her daughter back to their home.

He nodded and smiled. He suddenly became aware of his purpose and turned his attention to a stunned Arthur.

"Well this is not the way I intended to receive you, but never the less, welcome to Ireland Arthur Castus, King of Briton!" He turned his attention to the knights, "And these are your legendary knights, this is an honor." Arthur introduced the knights one by one. Connor's green eyes focused on Kayley who began to blush. He reached his hand towards her and she hesitantly put her hand in his. He kissed the back of her hand ever so gently and whispered "I am deeply honored, my lady."

Galahad felt a twinge of jealousy as he watched the interaction between Connor and Kayley. "I don't mean to be rude, but we didn't even know you existed." Galahad interrupted. Arthur shot him an angry glance. He just shrugged. "What? It's true!" he said. Kayley and Gawain were both reaching over to smack him on the head when Connor laughed.

"Tis alright, most of us are over shadowed by the image that Cathal has created for himself." He smiled. "Come, we will escort you to Donaghee. Here, you may use these horses for as long as you are here."

Arthur and his knights thanked Connor and mounted their horses. Quickly they followed him close behind, each wondering what would come next.


	4. Many Meetings

_Author's note: I'm guessing by the lack of reviews that some people have lost interest… Sobs Oh well. It won't keep me from posting more of my story though! Evil laugh _

_Thank you to Sachita for reviewing! I'm glad that you like it so far and I hope not to disappoint you! I do want to warn you, the next couple of chapters may be a bit boring but I promise you that they will get more interesting as the plot unfolds. Yeah I don't like Cathal very much either. That's the whole point though lol. I want people to really hate him. :D_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of King Arthur, everything else that you do not recognize came from my head so yeah…_

**Many Meetings**

The trip to Donaghee was short but none the less impressive. Arthur and his men had known Britain's beautiful green landscape, but never before had they seen so many different shades of Green. Spiritual land marks rose above the ground like wild flowers, their carvings made ever so delicately comprised of beautiful, elaborate knot work. Though these things, along with many others had been impressive, nothing compared to the home of Lord Abram.

Donaghee sat upon the edge of a high cliff on the southern shore. The castle, almost as old as time itself, was rich with history. It was said to have been created by powerful wizards who cast a spell to protect it from enemies. Its high walls protected the village within and made it almost impossible for anyone to enter uninvited. It also contained many secret passageways, Connor had told them. If one did not know them well, then it was easy to get lost and possible never found. There were also many tales of families who once lived in the castle during the days of the forgotten magic. It was easy to see why Donaghee was the very heart and soul of Ireland.

"And there below is my favorite spot," Connor said pointing to the small sandy beach below. "You are all welcome to it whenever you like." He addressed the knights. Galahad blinked. He had not been paying any attention to the conversations. He was too busy plotting how to keep Kayley and Connor away from each other. He scowled at them. They had ridden nearly the entire trip side by side.

Finally they had reached the front gate and not a moment too soon for Galahad. They all sat in silence for a moment. Galahad had to keep from throwing his dagger at Connor's head when he saw him brush away a loose strand of hair from Kayley's face. Slowly the gates opened. They were surprised to see whom the assumed to be King Abram and his son Cathal waiting in front of them.

They had all dismounted when Abram rushed up to them. "Welcome Lord Arthur!" He shook his hand and smiled. "I trust that you had a pleasant journey?"

"Indeed my lord, your son has been most hospitable." He turned to Cathal who had remained silent.

Refusing to be over shadowed by his younger brother, Cathal stepped forward, "I am Cathal, eldest Son of Abram, heir to the throne of Donaghee and Ireland." He said arrogantly. He looked the knights up and down as if disgusted. _Such an uncivilized group of barbarians! And look, they even brought there own whore for their savage amusements!_ He smirked at them.

"Uh are we supposed to be impressed?" Galahad whispered. Bors choked back a laugh. Kayley gave him a mean look. _Gods when did she get all serious?_ Arthur tensed. The alliance was fragile enough without Galahad having to make things more difficult.

Whether Cathal heard the statement or not, they could not tell. He continued, "I apologize for not being the one to escort you but I had not been feeling well and my brother offered to take my place." He paused for a moment. "Now if you excuse me, I have other matters to attend to." He turned around and walked away without another word.

Abram broke the silence with a warm laugh, "You've got a smart mouth on you don't you lad?" He looked at Galahad who suddenly felt like a complete ass. "You'll fit in just fine. Come let me show you to your living quarters."

Abram took them through a brief tour of the main parts of the castle. He even added in some of the castle's history, none of which Tristan paid any attention to. When one of the servants caught the attention of Abram and began to discuss plans for tonight's feast, Arthur quietly slipped next to Tristan. Making sure they were out of earshot, Arthur asked him, "So what do you think Tristan?"

He knew that Tristan had remained silent all this time because he was analyzing the people they had encountered. "Abram and his youngest son are pure in their intentions," he said. "This Cathal, I do not favor him and it's not his arrogance or pride that influences my judgment."

Arthur nodded. "You will keep an eye on him." Tristan merely nodded. At that moment, a door in front of them swung open, surprising everyone, including Tristan. What was more surprising to him was the woman who appeared before them. Isolde stopped dead in her tracks, embarrassed at the attention she had caused. Almost immediately, her eyes focused on Tristan. There eyes locked for what seemed like eternity. Her heart began to pound in her chest as she felt her cheeks flush. Tristan felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Never had he seen such a beautiful woman. Isolde had to fight to tear herself away from his piercing gaze. Quickly she turned away and walked as fast as she could without saying a word.

Abram came up beside them. "That was my eldest daughter, Isolde. You will be properly introduced to my daughters later on this evening." He turned to Arthur, "I have just been informed that Rome has been delayed for a few days, so there will be a celebration on your behalf. Now if you excuse me, I must attend some other matters; Aon will show you to your quarters."

They thanked Abram and followed the servant, Aon to their quarters.

Arthur and his men had retired to their rooms and began to clean up for the celebration. Connor had insisted on taking Kayley on a tour throughout the marketplace. Galahad frowned as he watched Kayley take Connor's offered arm as they walked into the distance.

"Don't worry lad, I'm sure he's just trying to lessen the tension." Lancelot said.

"If that were so then why does he only invite her?" Galahad said.

Lancelot raised his eyebrow. "You've really got it bad for her don't you?"

Galahad turned to face his friend. "Is it that obvious?"

Lancelot laughed. "Just tell her how you feel."

"What if she doesn't feel the same?"

"Let her go and find a new girl."

"I can't just forget about her like that Lancelot. She means more to me than that." He sighed. He knew his friend was right. What else was there for him to do but tell her how he felt? Who knows, maybe she might feel the same… he could only hope.

The market place pulsed with life as people moved about hunting for the best bargains. Never had Kayley seen so many beautiful trinkets. The food that was being sold smelled phenomenal. Connor had promised that the food at the celebration would be twice as good as the food sold at the market. They walked together engrossed in light conversation of their favorite past times while they walked arm in arm. Connor greeted some of the market goes with a smile. It was obvious that he was a good man. He obviously took the time to get to know the "common folk" and remembered their names. Those he did not know, he was glad to meet and made it a point to remember their names.

They had stopped in front of a small stand that had a beautiful display of delicately embroidered dresses. Kayley reached out to touch the fabric of a pale pink dress. It was more lavish than anything she had ever owned. It was made to fit around the shoulders and hung low at the breast. Bright gold beads were sewn with care in elaborate knot work. _If only I ever owned something this lovely._ She thought to herself.

Connor seemed to notice how her eyes glowed at the sight of the dress. He turned to the merchant and asked "How much for the dress?"

"Take it, a gift to you my lord and your beautiful lady." The man said.

"I insist, here," Connor reached into his pocket and gave the man the money.

The merchant's eyes grew large at the generous amount. "Thank you sire!" He bowed. He gently folded the dress and wrapped in a dark red cloth. He then tied it with ribbons to keep it from falling out. He gave the dress to Connor, who in turn handed it to Kayley.

She stared at Connor for a moment. "I don't know what to say." He took her hand in his and kissed it softly. Her heart began to beat faster. She felt herself blush.

"Consider it a welcoming present." He smiled. Then suddenly he grew nervous. "Kayley, I was wondering, well, I know that it has only been a few hours, but I feel like I already know you and…" he ran a hand through his thick brown hair. "I would be honored if you would allow me to accompany you to the festival." He watched her, his emerald eyes full of hope.

She smiled; "Yes!" she squealed and threw her arms around him, embracing him tightly. He tensed for a moment, shocked by her sudden display of affection. Slowly he wrapped his arms around her. She was the first to pull away. He felt his cheeks grow hot. "I must go I need to get ready." He nodded and walked her back to her room.

The festival was held in the court yard at sunset. Arthur and his knights had been formally introduced to the people. They had been seated at the largest table. The Arthur did his best to keep up with the conversation with his comrades, but his mind wandered else where. He had yet to meet his future bride and as the minutes passed, he grew more uneasy. Gawain and Dagonet laughed heartily at a joke that Bors had made. Lancelot had already busied himself by wooing a young maiden with fiery red hair. Arthur smiled. At least his men seemed to be enjoying themselves. He looked at Tristan. _Silent as ever old friend. _He thought to himself. There was something different about the scout though. He didn't know what exactly it was or when this change occurred. It was as if he let his guard down while he was deep in thought. He looked at Galahad. He had been staring at Kayley the entire time. She didn't seem to notice him as she causally searched the crowd for what he assumed to be Connor. _Poor lad._

Suddenly the noise stopped. A man stepped forward and announced, "His Royal Highness Lord Abram King of Donaghee, his youngest son, Lord Connor and his eldest son Cathal heir to the throne of Donaghee." He paused a moment then continued, "The Ladies Isolde and Lady Caitriona, daughters of Lord Abram and jewels of Donaghee." Cait smiled, this was the moment she had been waiting for. She looked at her brother Connor who in turn smiled at her. Isolde walked quietly beside her father. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she smiled. Everyone stood to show their respects and bowed as they passed. Slowly they made their way to the table.

When Abram reached Arthur, he embraced the younger man and said, "Now Arthur, may I introduce to you my youngest daughter Caitriona." Slowly she stepped forward. She didn't dare look up. She was too frightened to. She bowed her head slightly as did Arthur.

Gently he took her hand in his and kissed it. "I am honored my lady." She still did not look up. Inside she screamed at herself to look up but she couldn't. She cursed herself for being so timid. As if sensing her struggle, Arthur placed a hand under her chin and lifted her face so that he could look into her eyes. He was taken aback at how beautiful her face was. He said softly, "Do not fear being with me, lady, for I am as any other man." She smiled at him and he felt his heart stop. _She is beautiful._

"I trust that you all remember my eldest Isolde." The knights greeted her as she sat next to her father. She never took her eyes off Tristan, who in turn, locked eyes with her. She bowed her head in acknowledgement ever so slightly and took her seat beside Cathal. She could feel her heart pounding rapidly in her chest and feared that others could hear. Silently she prayed that she would be able to mask her discomfort behind her icy mask that had protected her from the world.

Slowly but surely the tension seemed to die as they immersed themselves in the celebration. Everything came to life before their eyes as elegant dancers dressed in vibrant clothes took to the center of the floor. They swayed to the music, their feet barely touching the floor as if they could fly. As quickly as the performance had begun, it ended and a new act begun. By this time, dinner was being served and people continued to laugh and enjoy each others company.

Abram and Arthur were caught in conversation, while Bors busied himself in telling jokes to anyone who would listen. Lancelot had been dragged to the dance floor by the young maiden from the village, who he had come to know as Maeve. Gawain was talking to Dagonet about Brevlan and their unborn child. Kayley seemed to be anxious as she twisted the sleeve of her dress in her hands.

Galahad watched Kayley nervously. His palms were sweating and he felt his face begin to flush as he did his best to work up his nerve to ask her to dance. As he was about to stand, a figure in the corner of his eye caught his attention. When he turned back he was too late, Connor stood next to Kayley and as he whispered into her ear she smiled and took his arm. Galahad slumped down into his chair and sighed as he watched Connor whisk Kayley away to the dance floor.

Arthur stood suddenly and turned to Cait, "Would you care to dance my lady?"

Cait smiled as she stood. She merely nodded her head unable to speak.

Abram smiled at the pair. _They seem to be taken with one another._ It pleased him when he noticed how they stole silent glances at one another. He watched as they danced gracefully across the floor. They moved in perfect harmony and seemed to glow in each other's presence. _Good at least I know that she'll be happy._ Suddenly, Connor and Kayley came into view and he couldn't help but laugh. They animatedly spun around the floor, laughing and smiling, but never loosing contact. He hadn't expected for his youngest son to make a connection with the female knight. _Looks like there is going to be another wedding._ He turned to make conversation with his eldest son, but to his surprise he was gone.

Little by little the crowd began to lessen as the hour grew late and spectators grew weary. Lancelot had already returned to his quarters with Maeve in order to pursue other activities. Finally, the royal family and the knights bid each other goodnight and returned to their quarters. Dagonet and Galahad had been given the arduous task of making sure that a very drunk Bors and Gawain made it to their rooms in one piece. Bors let out a thunderous laugh that shook the halls.

"Shut up you old bastard are you trying to wake the dead?!" Galahad snapped as he half dragged, half carried Gawain.

"Wots smatter boy?" Bors slurred. He swayed back and forth bringing Dag with him. "Pissed cuz Kayley's gonna warm Connor's bed instead o' yours?"

Galahad sparked and moved to punch Bors but instantly regretted it when Gawain nearly hit the floor.

"Enough!" Dag boomed. Bors and Galahad covered their ears and winced. Quick he shoved Bors into his room.

"But-" Bors began but was cut off when Dag slammed the door in his face. They heard a loud thump and instantly they knew that he had fallen backwards. They looked at each other for a moment.

"He'll be fine." Dag said as he helped shove Gawain into his room. Just then Arthur appeared beside them trying his best to hold the smile that threatened to break through. He had just escorted Cait to her room and it was obvious that it had gone well.

"She's very pretty," Dag commented, "and she seems to be quite taken with you."

"So it would seem." Arthur said. Then he looked around, "Where is Tristan?"

"I don't know," Galahad answered, "when I asked him where he was going he said 'none of your business.'"

Just then soft giggles drew their attention to the far end of the hall. They turned to see Kayley and Connor standing by her door. He whispered something in her ear and gently kissed her hand. Her cheeks turned a crimson red as she leaned against the wall. He took one last look at her and left. Smiling, she held the fresh rose to her nose gently inhaling its sweet scent. She suddenly became aware of her surroundings and turned to the knights. "Not a word," she threatened as she slammed the door to her room.

Dag and Arthur burst into laughter as Galahad stormed off to his room.

She couldn't see anything among the darkness of the forest but she knew that it was all around her. The smell was overbearing and nearly removed her of all her senses. Death. It was something that she knew all too well. The sense of darkness that seemed to smother all hopes of survival, the way her heart seemed to have a cold, clammy tightness in her chest as it pounded furiously inside her and knowing that nothing she did could save them.

She stood atop a high hill over looking the sea. The faces before her blurred as they fought each other and died among each other, their screams rattling her very soul. Accalon appeared before her, his bloody mutilated body dragged itself towards her, rasping for air. Instantly she stepped back but in a flash, he grabbed her right ankle with so much force that she cried out. She looked down at him willing herself to say "I'm sorry" but nothing came. He looked up at her and was horrified to see that his eye had been gouged out.

Then the scene before her changed. It was her father and her eldest brother Alastar. _No it couldn't be father, he's too young._ It was true, the man before her was too young to be his father with his jet black hair, muscular body and ice blue eyes. And yet, his ring bore their family crest. _Father's ring._ Just then, the young man ran his blade through Alastar's abdomen. Blood poured out in unnatural amounts as he slowly fell to the ground. There he lay in front of her, his clothes drenched in blood and his eyes gouged out.

Isolde screamed aloud and instantly she woke. She breathed heavily as drops of sweat ran down her face. She couldn't breath. _I have to get out of here._ Instantly she leaped from her bed and ran down the corridor towards the gardens. She ran and ran until she fell to her knees beneath a huge weeping willow. Exhausted, she leaned against its trunk and sobbed. She had thought that these nightmares had left her for good but they had returned. Many times since the death of her brother she had sought solace from this very spot. It had been Alastar's hiding place when he wanted to be left alone. Slowly her tears lessened as she sat in silence, shivering in the cold night.

"A little late for you to be out princess." A deep voice said above her.

Quickly she jumped on her feet. Silently she cursed aloud. _How could he have slipped by me unnoticed?_ She never let anyone see her cry and she hated the fact that this stranger, possibly and enemy, saw her so vulnerable. _What would they think of the Donaghee Clan now?_

Tristan landed gracefully beside her. "It's not safe." Isolde merely blinked. She wasn't expecting for the voice to come from the mysterious dark knight. At a loss for words she just stood there bewildered. He felt the soft pang of disappointment. Her silence had been mistaken for fear. "Do you fear being with me?" he said with a hint of sarcasm.

_He's toying with me!_ She felt her body grow hot with anger as she snapped "No, why should I be?"

_This should be interesting._ Daring to see if her spark of courage was merely an act he continued, "If you were smart you would." He took a step closer and was surprised when she did not step back. Instead she closed the distance between them.

Her lips were inches away from his as she whispered, "I fear nothing, not even death." He looked into her eyes and saw a fiery passion that made his heart skip a beat. Her eyes showed that she was not putting up a pretense. _The eyes of a predator. _Despite himself, Tristan chuckled. This seemed to relax her and she couldn't help but laugh. Suddenly she shivered. Her anger had made her forget about the cold and now that it was gone she couldn't help but tremble.

Then without thinking, Tristan removed his long, heavy coat and wrapped it around her shoulders. "Thank you," she whispered. She started to walk and slowly he followed her, unsure if she wanted his company. He waited for her to speak. "They say that you are the silent one. You say nothing, yet I know you see much."

"Aye," he said. He cursed his uneasiness. He had been use to being ignored and rarely sought out conversation. How strange that in this moment he regretted his aloofness. And yet, she didn't seem to mind. In fact, she seemed to be smiling at his silence.

She stopped to look at him. "Do you have naught to say to me Sir Tristan?" a glint of humor shone in her eyes as she watched him.

He stopped abruptly. He did not look at her as he responded, "I do not have the ability to converse with others that I have just met." Why he had admitted that, he didn't know. There was something about her, something that he couldn't explain. He felt comfortable with her.

She smiled at him and said, "Well I guess you and I have to work on that." They continued to walk together in silence. Finally they had reached her room. She handed him back his coat. "Thank you for your company and escorting me to my quarters Sir Tristan." She slightly curtsied as she added, "It was a pleasure speaking with you, one that I hope to indulge in more often."

"Goodnight Princess," He bowed his head.

"Isolde, call me Isolde." she said.

"Goodnight Isolde." He said and silently he left.

She closed the door to her room almost mechanically. She didn't understand the strange feeling inside of her but she did know that she wanted it to stay. She was sincere when she said that she hopped to speak to him more in the future. She yawned as she crawled back into her bed and instantly fell asleep.


	5. Memories that Shape the Heart

_Author's note: Thank you to my reviewers! You all made my day!!!_

_King. Mozza: I'm glad you lurv it lol!_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing of King Arthur, everything else that you do not recognize came from my head so yeah…_

Chapter 5

A few days passed since the arrival of Arthur and his knights. During the time that they had spent there, the knights became fond of the royal family (except of course Cathal) and the people of Ireland. They were always greeted with a smile and offered hospitality whenever they ventured into the market place. The people worked hard all day, but at night, celebrated as is if it was their last, and though the knights had yet to venture out of the safety of the fortress, they had become to feel as if they were too a part of one grand family. The best part, however, was the relationship growing between Caitriona and Arthur. It was more than obvious that there was a mutual attraction between the two. Whenever it was possible, Arthur did his best to make physical contact with her, whether it be a soft brush with his fingertips on the back of her hand, to gently tucking hair away from her face. They spent a lot of time together, walking in through the market place, riding through the country side, or talking in the gardens. They enjoyed each other's company and it seemed as if they never ran out of things to talk about.

Today they sat in the gardens enjoying a quiet picnic that Caitriona had fixed for the both of them. It was late in the day so they would not be out for too long. Quietly they talked to each other, occasionally smiling or laughing at what the other had to say.

Tristan watched from his perched in the weeping willow, the tallest tree in the garden as the two enjoyed their picnic. Though he and the other knights felt relatively safe with the royal family, they couldn't afford to let their guard down. So they had all agreed to keep an eye on the pair, just in case. And though Tristan sat watching his commander, his thoughts began to drift elsewhere.

It was strange, the growing companionship between he and Isolde. During the day he rarely saw her, and if he did, she barely spoke to him or acknowledged him. But when the sun set and the night sky engulfed the land, they met beneath the weeping willow where they would spend hours talking. She would recount the events of her day and sarcastically spoke of the bores of politics that she had to endure. He would listen to everything she said and occasionally would interrupt her to comment on something. The one thing that never failed was that she always had something witty to say that would make him laugh or smile. Strange that this woman brought out a new side of him… Then she would insist that he tell her what he did that day and would listen with care to every detail. The night would always end with Tristan escorting Isolde to her room. He had come to enjoy their light hearted ritual, but last night was different…

_**Flash back**_

_Isolde pulled back the long vines of the willow, and looked at Tristan. He stood there, as he always did, breathless from the vision in front of him. Isolde stood there in the brilliant light of the nearly full moon, her hair a shimmering scarlet fire burning fearlessly in the night. It was as if she were a goddess standing before him, her earthy green gown hanging delicately over her ivory shoulders, and she innocent and unaware of her beauty bathed in the light. And just as quickly as the vision appeared, it vanished into the darkness. Something was wrong. _

_Stiffly she sat on the ground next to him and folded her hands in her lap. She sat there for a few moments as if debating what to say. He noticed the way she looked down at her hands and refused to look at him. Quietly he watched her waiting for her to speak. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his gaze. It was then that he caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a bandage covering a fresh wound. As if noticing her mistake, she quickly covered it up._

_Genuinely concerned he asked her, "What happened?"_

_"I was in the garden earlier and I leaned over to cut a fresh rose and was cut by some thorns." He seemed to be satisfied with her answer which made her feel awful. But no matter what, she was bound to secrecy. _

_After a moment he asked, "There is something else isn't there?"_

_She sighed. He was right; there was more to that story than what she had told him, though she didn't want to admit it. There were so many things that she wanted to tell him but she knew she couldn't. 'I guess half the truth is better than none.' She reasoned. She sighed before she began, "Most of the time I am able to push disturbing thoughts and memories from my mind, but since the moment my father made this treaty, painful memories have thus flooded my mind and have made it difficult for me to do so." Isolde looked at Tristan for a moment. Unsure of where the conversation was going, he just nodded his head and waited for her to continue. "My mother and brother died trying to bring peace." She paused as she looked up at him. "Argo of the Breago Clan had contacted my mother in secrecy. He told her that he was willing to end the fighting from his part if she agreed to meet him in person and sign the treaty. He reasoned with her that my father was a proud man and would never consent to such a treaty. So my mother, knowing how her husband was, agreed to do so. What he failed to mention that he blamed my father for the death of his only son. She trusted him." Tristan looked into her eyes and saw her calm cool demeanor had turned to rage. "She trusted him and he murdered her in cold blood. My uncle killed his brother's wife and sent her head back as a warning that if they ever came into conflict again, that the loss would be greater."_

_'They were brothers?' Tristan thought to himself. Sensing that there was more, Tristan waited for her to continue._

_"My eldest brothers Alastar, along with Cathal, were on their way to meet with another clan leader. They were going to a peace talk when they were ambushed." She looked down at her hands again. Not looking up she continued, "His body was never recovered... They murdered him!" she cried out. "He wasn't even armed!" She began to sob. "We- we tried so hard and lost so much. Tristan, what if this alliance fails? What if we never bring peace to the people?!" Her sobs came more violently and her body began to tremble._

_Never had Tristan seen her so vulnerable. At a loss for words, Tristan did the only thing that came to mind, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close to him. Silently he sat there holding her while she cried. Finally, she had stopped crying and managed to recompose herself._

_"I am sorry Tristan, I didn't mean to ruin our meeting." She wiped her face with her sleeves. She hadn't meant to bring it up, but for some reason she couldn't take it and tonight, she needed a companion. She looked at him for a moment then looked down in embarrassment. 'He must think that I am weak.'_

_Tristan gently lifted her face. He looked into her eyes with a softness that she had never seen before. "There is no where else I would rather be then right here with you." It was at that moment he knew he was in trouble. He was getting too close to her, closer than he as ever gotten to any woman. She wasn't the first to interest him and though he was able to shut the others out when they got too close, he wasn't able to with Isolde, even though he knew that she belonged to someone else. He justified his new found weakness by telling himself that she did not feel for him, just friendship._

_"I think it's best if I retire to my quarters." She said. The feelings that were growing inside her were making her uncomfortable, so she figured that it would probably be best if she went to sleep. Tristan nodded and stood, offering her his hand. She gladly accepted it and stood facing him. Offering her his arm, they walked together in silence until they reached her room._

_She stood there not knowing what to say. After a moment, Isolde smiled at him and turned to open her door. As she was about to go inside, she hesitated and turned around. Without thinking, she walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you." She whispered. Quickly she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her…_

"Women are confusing." Tristan mumbled out loud. Suddenly, he realized that he was on a mission. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he had not seen Arthur and Caitriona leave the garden. He cursed out loud as he jumped from his perch to the ground with astonishing grace. 'How far could they have gotten?' He wondered. It was getting dark now so he assumed that Arthur was already walking her to her room. Quickly he walked towards Caitriona's sleeping quarters. As he passed the study, he heard someone call his name. When he entered, he was relieved to find Arthur and Cait, along with the rest of the knights crammed into the study.

"We've been looking all over for you." Isolde said. She flashed him a devilish smile and he felt his hear skip a beat.

"Why?" He asked.

"We're going on a little trip." She responded.

**Yeah I know it's a bit short but what do you think?**


	6. A Night of Love Part One

Author's Note: To all my reviewers thank you very much and hopefully I haven't lost any of you since it takes me forever to post a new chapter. This chapter is a bit longer than the other ones. I hope you enjoy it! Please read and review!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from King Arthur, everything else is my own.

* * *

Tristan looked at them as if they were mad. He had grown annoyed that he had loss his concentration, and had failed during a mission. "What?" Tristan asked. Rarely did he go out on a leisurely trip and if he did, he went alone.

"Well, the girls and I think that all of you have been cooped up in the fortress for too long so we decided to take you somewhere." Connor explained. "There is a town not too far from here that has the best ale and some of the finest people you'll ever meet. It's isolated but it is our favorite home away from home." Often Connor and his sisters sought refuge in the small town of Cobh when they wanted to get away and recollect themselves. The people of that village were like family to the royal siblings.

"So what say you Tristan?" Isolde said, "Are you ready to have a bit of fun?" She flashed him the same wicked smile that made his heart pound. How could he refuse? He couldn't help but grin back at her.

"Let's go."

They rode quietly and swiftly in the cover of the night sky. They passed the main rode and turned onto a beaten path that was covered by the brush. One could easily miss the path if its existence was not known to the traveler. No one knew that they had left, not their servants, their guards, not even their father. Abram would never allow for his children to venture out without their guards let lone at night, but their spirits were wild and could not be contained. At least for one night, just one night, they could forget their crowns and their duties and be ordinary men and women.

They rode for what seemed to be miles and miles. Just as they seemed to have gotten lost, a dim light began to appear before them. It seemed to get brighter and brighter as they raced even faster towards the light. Then suddenly, they came crashing into the middle of the town. It was strangely deserted, but in the distance, music could be heard. Galahad opened his mouth to say something but was cut off when an elderly man, followed by what they assumed to be his wife came rushing towards them.

"Connor my boy 'bout time you came to visit us!" the old man said. He smiled warmly at the visitors, the wrinkles from his old, weathered faced scrunched together, as he laughed with joy. His wife, a slightly rounder smaller character, though none the less jolly, dusted her weathered hands on her apron as she spoke, "I see that you have brought some friends with you. Good the more the merrier." She chuckled. Connor, followed by Caitriona and Isolde leapt from their horses and embraced the old man and his wife.

"And who are these fine people?" The old woman asked. She smiled warmly at them.

"This is Arthur, King of Britain. These are his knights, Lancelot, Dagonet, Bors, Gawain, Galahad, and this," he took Kayley's hand in his; "this is Lady Kayley."

"Ah I see." The old woman replied. She couldn't help but smile as she noticed the softness in his voice as he mentioned the later._ 'It's good to see the boy has fancied a girl.' _She thought. "I am Fidelma and this is my husband Diarmaid."

"Arthur?" The old man said in awe. "My Lord, it is an honor! I've heard tales of you and your men. Why you beat those barbaric Saxons back, outnumbered none the less." Arthur smiled as he shook the man's hand. "You know, I use to be quite the soldier in my days…" He was cut off when his wife's hand made contact with his arm.

"O come now old man, don't go boring our guests," His wife scolded. "They've had a long day and I'm sure they would like to do something other than listen to an old badger like you." She said. "Come, my husband and I will tend to your horses now go on." She smiled. They thanked them as they followed Connor to the tavern.

When they arrived at the tavern, the knights were in awe of the structure. It wasn't a normal building but an actual cave. It had always been there, Connor explained, but throughout the years the people of the town had dug out more room so that it could also be used as a shelter. The cave itself was magnificent. It was spacious, definitely enough to hold the entire town incase of an attack. It was also well hidden among the trees and vines that covered the entrance. Inside, the cave was decorated with tapestries and banners passed down from generation to generation. Tables were set up along the sides to allow enough room for dancing. Musicians played on a small plateau on the north side of the cave. In the center the people danced merrily to the light hearted tune. Their dancing was different though. It wasn't graceful or rehearsed like at the welcoming ceremony. These people danced wildly, as if they were free spirits of the earth.

They sat at a table and were immediately given some ale. As they drank, they were surprised at the way it tasted. It wasn't bitter, but was strong and tangy and full of spices.

"This is good!" Galahad said. They all agreed as they happily consumed beverage after beverage.

After having a reasonable amount of ale, Caitriona got up and went straight to Arthur. She grabbed his hands and pulled him with her, "Dance with me!" she giggled. He followed mesmerized by her boldness and they were lost among the people. Immediately, Connor and Kayley followed, holding hands. Galahad just moaned and let his head fall harshly onto the table. Tristan merely ignored his young comrade as he kept a watchful eye on Isolde. She had excused herself from the group to converse with some people. A familiar figure came into view beside Isolde. "My lady I have yet to have the pleasure of dancing with you. May I?" He bowed to her.

Isolde laughed heartily at his antics and he pretended to look hurt. "I suppose I could grace your presence with a dance," she tried to keep a straight face as she continued, "But don't get any ideas, I carry a blade in my sleeve and I won't hesitate to change your religion." Lancelot laughed as he took her hand and gently led her away.

Tristan clenched his fists as he felt a split second of jealousy that he quickly subdued. She was beautiful and graceful as she floated across the floor. She donned another green gown that flowed smoothly, like summer grass against a soft breeze. White flowers decorated her hair that, even in the darkness of night, shone with vibrant fury. She smiled at Lancelot as he spun her around with such surprising elegance, and laughed when he winked at her. And all Tristan could do was watch. He watched with envy and regret as they move in unison across the dance floor.

Finally the dance ended. Lancelot bowed and gently kissed her hand before he left. He passed by Tristan who glared daggers at him. He looked for a moment and decided that it would be best if he sat somewhere else. He felt eyes staring at him and when he turned, he wasn't surprise to it was Isolde. She stood there in the middle of the dance floor staring at him as if daring him to dance with her. Then suddenly, she disappeared among the crowd and Tristan quickly scanned the room for her. He was stunned when she appeared right beside him. _'Damn' woman!' _Tristan cursed to himself. She sat in front of him and placed her chin in her hands. She looked at him for a moment before she said, "Well?"

"Well what?" Tristan responded annoyed. He didn't like the fact that Isolde was able to sneak up on him.

"Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" She said smiling.

"No." he answered sharply. Quickly her smile faded as she just stared at him dumbfounded. Tristan saw a flash of anger in her eyes but she quickly masked it.

"Fine." She said coldly. She got up and left. _'I'll be damned if I let him spoil my evening.' _She thought to herself. But to tell the truth, she was upset. She hadn't expected such a cold reaction from Tristan, especially since he seemed to open up to her the night before. She sat down next to Dagonet. Silently she slumped in her chair. Having seen what had just happened, Dagonet turned to her and said, "He didn't mean anything by that Isolde." She turned to him sharply and opened her mouth to say something but he continued, "he just doesn't open up to others, it's who he is, doesn't mean he doesn't care."

She stared at Dagonet for a moment_. Care? About me?_ She thought. Quickly she shook the thought off. No use in false hopes. She sat in silence for awhile, wondering if she had ruined their friendship last night.

Out of nowhere, a drunken Bors appeared and slumped himself over Isolde's chair. "Isolde," he said rather loudly, "can u teach sme to dance? I want to sprize 'Nora."

Isolde laughed heartily. "Of course Bors, but wouldn't you rather wait until your sober so you can remember?"

"M'no." He said as he swayed back and forth. "I wont 'ave the curage to." He slurred.

"Alright then." Isolde laughed as she helped Bors to the dance floor.

Never before had Isolde endured so many injuries dancing. Occasionally Bors mumbled sorry as he stepped on her toes, knocked knees or swung her too roughly. She had to give him credit though; he was trying so hard not to make a mistake.

"So how long have you and Vanora been together?" She asked. She figured that maybe by talking Bors would loosen up and not focus so much on dancing.

"Ever since I can remember." He said. She could tell by the way he spoke of her and his children that he loved them very much.

She smiled at him. If only she could love like that. "I would like to meet her some day." She said.

Finally the dance ended and not a moment too soon. Dag had to escort Bors to the table while Isolde limped her way back.

For most of the night, Isolde avoided Tristan as much as she could. She spent most of her time dancing with her siblings or talking with some of the townspeople. She had danced with most of the knights and even managed to lighten the spirits of a gloomy Galahad. And now she now found herself sitting next to Dag. She waited a moment before she turned to him and asked "Would you care to dance Dagonet?" He nodded and they left together. He gave Tristan a quick glance who in turn glared at him. Dag smiled at him innocently and offered Isolde his arm. _'This should be enough.' _He thought to himself. Once again Tristan was forced to watch Isolde dance with another man.

It's not that he didn't know how to dance, nor was he afraid of rejection. He was a graceful dancer and confident, but when it came to her, everything changed. He was beginning to feel vulnerable, and he hated that feeling. Long ago he had pushed his feelings aside, convincing himself that he had nothing to lose. It made him a fierce warrior. Doing that has kept him alive. Being around Isolde brought back those feelings and for once, he was unsure of himself.

The sound of Kayley giggling brought him out of his thoughts. She was sitting at the end of the table next to Connor. He had his arm wrapped around her and was whispering into her ear. He looked around him and noticed that the crowd of people had slowly begun dwindled down. Soon the tavern would close and they would have to go home. Suddenly the music stopped as the musicians prepared to play a new song. Acting on instinct, Tristan got up and walked towards Dag and Isolde. Dag was already about to return to the table. As he left the dance floor, he looked at Tristan and had to fight to keep himself from smiling. His plan had worked, now all there was left to do was see how it all played out. Isolde had her back to him so she wasn't able to see him standing right behind her. When she turned around, she nearly jumped out of her skin. "Tristan, you startled me." She said. They stared at each other for a moment and she became annoyed. She was about to make a rude remark but had decided otherwise. _'No telling how he'd react.'_

The music began to play once again, but this time it was different. It wasn't the same fast paced light hearted music. This one was slow, and beautiful, almost celestial. "May I have this dance?"

Her jaw nearly dropped and she had to refrain from asking him to repeat what he said. She smiled coyly at him as she said "Of course." Her heart pounded in her chest. _'Finally!'_ she thought. Inside she was giddy but she refused to let it show. She waited for Tristan to take her hand. Instead, he bowed to her and she in turn did the same. She looked, her eyes questioning him.

"My Lady," he said as he held out his hand to her. Isolde was speechless. Gently she placed her hand in his. As soon as they connected, it was like lightning coursing through their bodies. She looked at their hands and then back at Tristan and was even more surprised to see that tender look in his eyes. He smiled at her, something neither she, nor any of his comrades had seen before as he led her to a clear spot on the dance floor. And together they moved, gracefully, almost as if they were floating, their eyes never losing contact. By then the knights had returned to the table, exhausted.

"Where's Tristan?" Gawain asked Dag. He merely shrugged and tried his best to act as if he didn't know anything.

"He's over there look!" Galahad said. They all looked to where Galahad was pointing. Their mouths dropped open slightly as they watched the scout gracefully move on the dance floor. "I've never seen him dance before…" Galahad said puzzled. The others murmured in agreement.

"We've all had a bit too much to drink." Dag reasoned. He knew that it was rare for his friend to show any interest in a woman and if he did the affair was always brief and emotionless. But the way he looked at her was different and he wanted for his friend to happy, even if it was for a little while. _'I guess Morgain is right, I am a hopeless romantic.'_ Dag chuckled to himself. Everyone but Arthur seemed satisfied with his answer. He was about to say something to Dag but was interrupted by Connor.

"That is a lover's dance." He said to no one in particular.

"What?" Gawain asked.

"We'll, legend has it that the fairy princess, Aoife had disguised herself as a mortal to escape a loveless betrothal. When she wandered into town she met Bran, the son of our clan's most powerful leader. Neither of them knew who each other was, being that he too disguised himself. They fell in love while they danced to this song. It has no name and only a few know how to play it and even fewer recognize the melody. It is said that the music draws soul mates together and reveals their true feelings…"

"Well you're just full of stories aren't you?" Galahad interrupted. He took one last sip of his ale and stormed away from the table. Gawain got up to follow him, but was held back by Dag.

"Leave him alone lad, it won't do you any good to go after him." He reasoned.

Galahad knew that he shouldn't have snapped, but it was almost too much for him to take. He knew that he was losing Kayley and that it was his own fault. But no matter how much his head told him to let her go, his heart pleaded for him to keep trying. "Tomorrow," he said, "Tomorrow I'll really impress her. I'll tell her how I feel and she'll forget all about him." He reasoned.

They were all speechless for a moment be fore Dag added in nervously, "It's just a legend, it doesn't mean that they love each other," he reasoned. "Besides, Isolde is a lovely woman and she danced with us all, even Bors.'" He pointed to his comrade who had long since passed out on the table. They decided to drop the matter and sat in silence, and occasionally they looked at Tristan and Isolde.

The music came to an end all too soon. Those on the dance floor clapped in admiration for the musicians. Tristan and Isolde stared at each other, both trying to find the right words to say. There were feelings growing inside, feelings that had always been there but they never dared to explore. Tristan placed his hand on her cheek and gently brushed his finger tips against her skin. Suddenly, a young boy appeared beside them, breaking the spell. "My Lady, the master bard requests that you sing a song." The boy said. "He said that he's an old friend of yours."

Isolde smiled at the boy. The room grew quiet while they waited for her response. "I would be honored to sing for all of you." The crowd cheered at her response and made their way to their seats. She looked at Tristan for a moment before she made her way to the stage. She embraced the master bard and they exchanged a few words. Then he instructed his companions and they began to play a slow melody.

_Upon a darkened night  
the flame of love was burning in my breast  
And by a lantern bright  
I fled my house while all in quiet rest_

_Shrouded by the night  
And by the secret stair I quickly fled  
The veil concealed my eyes  
while all within lay quiet as the dead_

_Oh night thou was my guide__  
__of night more loving than the rising sun__  
__Oh night that joined the lover__  
__to the beloved one__  
__transforming each of them into the other_

_Upon that misty night  
in secrecy, beyond such mortal sight  
Without a guide or light  
than that which burned so deeply in my heart  
That fire t'was led me on  
and shone more bright than of the midday sun  
To where he waited still  
it was a place where no one else could come_

Isolde never kept her eyes off of Tristan. It was as if they were alone and she sang for him only.

_Oh night thou was my guide__  
__of night more loving than the rising sun__  
__Oh night that joined the lover__  
__to the beloved one__  
__transforming each of them into the other_

_Within my pounding heart  
which kept itself entirely for him  
He fell into his sleep  
beneath the cedars all my love I gave  
From o'er the fortress walls  
the wind would his hair against his brow  
And with its smoothest hand  
caressed my every sense it would allow_

_Oh night thou was my guide_  
_of night more loving than the rising sun_  
_Oh night that joined the lover_  
_to the beloved one_  
_transforming each of them into the other_

_I lost myself to him  
and laid my face upon my lover's breast  
And care and grief grew dim  
as in the morning's mist became the light  
There they dimmed amongst the lilies fair  
_The room was quiet for a long time, speechless. There wasn't a man or woman in the crowd who had a dry eye, (except of course for Tristan). He sat there, staring at her in a trance. Finally, they slowly snapped out of their trance and applauded. The master bard rose from his seat and embraced Isolde. "You've made me so proud Isolde, I've never had a better student."

"Thank you Elric," she said. She left the stage feeling different. She couldn't explain why she felt what she did. For the first time in her life, she felt peaceful… and excited as she approached her companions. She didn't know what to say. They all crowded around her and complimented her singing. She merely smiled as she watched Tristan.

The hour was late and Connor advised that they should return to the fortress. So with haste, they returned to the safety of Donaghee. They had stayed out late, but surprisingly no one had noticed their absence. This perturbed Connor a bit but he was grateful at least this time.

Exhausted, they all retired to their quarters, except for Tristan and Isolde. Not wanting this feeling to end, Isolde beckoned him to follow her. They hid in the weeping willow talking and laughing. Though the feelings that took place when they danced weighed heavily on their minds, neither one of them was willing to discuss it. They sat in silence for a moment. Suddenly Tristan broke the silence. "Sing to me Isolde." Her head shot up and she looked him in the eyes. He looked at her so lovingly, how could she refuse?

Gently she began to hum a melody before she sang:

_My young love said to me, "My mother won't mind  
And my father won't slight you for your lack of kind"  
And she stepped away from me and this she did say:  
It will not be long, love, till our wedding day"  
_

_As she stepped away from me and she moved through the fair  
And fondly I watched her move here and move there  
And then she turned homeward with one star awake  
Like the swan in the evening moves over the lake  
_Isolde stopped. She couldn't keep singing. "Tristan what's wrong?" She asked him. Without warning, he leaned over and gently cupped her face. He kissed her gently on the lips. Though the contact was light, it was as if they were hit by lightning, ask waves of new feelings and desired coursed through their veins. He began to pull away only to have Isolde grab onto the back of his neck and deepen the kiss. Slowly she parted her lips allowing his tongue to explore. What started out as a delicate kiss now became full of passion and hunger. Tristan finally gathered this resolve and pulled away. She looked at him, questioning him and he answered. "Isolde, you must go now." He breathed heavily. _Why did she make him want her so badly?_

"Why?" She was heartbroken and embarrassed at her behavior.

"Because if you stay here with me any longer, your honor is at stake. Please," he pleaded. She nodded her head in understanding and left abruptly. Tristan moaned as he fell backwards onto the soft earth.

Isolde had just about reached her room when she heard the muffled sound of the trap door sliding behind her. She turned quickly to find one of her men, Donal emerging from the entrance.

"My Lady, Taranis of the Breago Clan has just attacked Cobh," He said. Isolde's heart dropped.

"Did you alert the rest of the men?" She asked. He nodded. Quickly she entered her room and began to dress in her riding clothes. "Make ready my horse, I shall follow shortly." Quickly he left the way he came. She finished getting ready and opened the trap door in the hall to follow Donal, unaware of the pair of dark eyes that had been watching her the entire time.

She knew that they were too late, as they rode with haste to the town she had just been in. Once they arrived she jumped off her horse and ran to see if there were any survivors, followed by the rest of the soldiers. This was a sight that she knew all too well, the desolation and destruction that was left behind by Taranis and his men. The town was empty of carnage, and immediately she knew where they had attacked. She ran to the tavern and with a heavy heart was proven correct. The cave, which had served as a safe haven for it's villagers, had become their slaughter house. Once again, it was foolish to hope for any survivors. They searched the bodies in vain.

An object glimmering in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Quickly she walked towards the object and knelt on the ground. She lifted it up only to find that it was Elric's harp bathed in blood. She held it close to her as she knelt in silence. Stiffly she stood and turned to face Donal, "Bring some wood in here and burn the bodies."

"What?" He was in shock. "They deserve a proper burial!" He was outraged, how dare she suggest such a thing?

"A burial ceremony will take to much time, if we are to stop them we have to move quickly. You there," she pointed to the three youngest soldiers, "take care of the bodies, then once you are through, head towards Donaghee and tell my father what you have witnessed." She mounted her horse, "The rest of you, we hunt." Quickly Isolde walked towards her horse and mounted. Without waiting to see if any of her men would follow, she rode off down the beaten path. She knew where they were heading towards next.

The town of Aldergrove was about ten miles from Cobh and Isolde was certain that the town was their next target. She only hoped that she could reach Taranis and his men first.

Off they rode towards Aldergrove, desperately trying to cut them off before it was too late. Surprisingly, the light from their camp could be seen a few feet away. Isolde directed them to surround the camp. They were not to attack before she gave the order. She waited a few minutes. _Ok Isolde what's the plan? _She knew that they were outnumbered and by attacking Taranis, she would lose more men than the last time. Unwilling to take that risk, Isolde sheathed her sword and told Donal to keep to the shadows. "Keep the men in line, and no matter what happens, do not attack until I say to do so, got it?" He nodded.

She took a deep breath and walked from her hiding place in the brush. Deep down her mind was telling her to turn back, but her heart was telling her to move forward. "Taranis!" She shouted. "Taranis of the Breago Clan!" She shouted once more. Her men were appalled that their beloved leader had made such a bold move, but did all they could to obey her orders. Deep down, Isolde knew what she was doing.

A huge figure emerged out of one of the tents, his muscles glistening with sweat. He must have been at least six feet tall, his orange hair falling in tangled locks behind him. He smiled an evil grin as he tossed his ax back and forth. "And what do I owe the pleasure of your company little lady?" She knew what he was thinking and she couldn't help but shudder if he went through with his intentions.

"I am Isolde, daughter of Abram," She said. He was obviously shocked. Quickly he prepared to withdraw his sword, but she interrupted him. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," She said. "You see, my men have got you out numbered and surrounded." She bluffed. "If you so much as make a false move, my men will move in and slaughter all of you."

He looked at her as if he didn't believe her. At that moment, Donal shot an arrow that landed right by his right foot. Taranis nearly jumped back. He laughed, "So what is it you want then?"

"I am here to make a deal, we can end this all here and no more blood needs to be shed tonight." She took a deep breath.

"I'm listening." He said.

"A duel." She said. "If I win, you must leave our lands and make haste to your own only to never come back, if you win, I am your prize to do with as you wish." His men began to laugh amongst themselves.

"Agreed he said."

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So what did you think? PLEASE REVIEW! 

Songs were in order:

**"_THE DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL"_**

_Words by St. John of the Cross; arranged and adapted by Loreena McKennitt__  
__Music by Loreena McKennitt_

"_She moved through the fair" I don't know who wrote it but it is also performed by Loreena McKennitt._


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